


Undercover

by Blodeuwedd



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 80's AU, AU, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut, bareback, death cw, not major characters though - Freeform, spies au, spy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 05:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blodeuwedd/pseuds/Blodeuwedd
Summary: Mickey and Susan Harris seem like a normal middle-class couple, living with their son in a house in Washington, but secretly they're actually KGB spies undercover. When FBI agent Ian Gallagher moves into the house across the street, their whole lives are about to change forever.A The Americans-inspired AU written for Gallavich Gift Exchange 2017.





	Undercover

**Author's Note:**

> I love The Americans and I did do some research to write this, but that doesn't mean all details are accurate, so please let me know if anything is too out of place.

The small back room is in nearly complete darkness, but the bluish-white light coming from his flashlight is enough fore Mickey to see the telephone he’s trying to tamper with. He is, after all, a trained agent. He works quickly, fingers moving dexterously to close the device up again. A muffled thump startles him, making him look behind himself for a second, but there’s nothing there. Whatever that sound was, it had been outside the room and most likely caused by Susan. He turns his attention back to the telephone, finishing it and rapidly putting it back where it belongs. No one would now suspect that it had been turned into a recorder.

 

Correction: no one would suspect anything if not for the dead body of a young woman on the carpet. Mickey rolls his eyes at Susan, opening his arms and raising his eyebrows in the universal expression for  _ what the fuck? _ . She just shrugs coldly, like she usually does, and motions for him to help her. Sighing, Mickey lifts the legs of the corpse while Susan does the same to the upper body and together they swiftly take the body out and into their car and clean up all the fingerprints on the way. 

 

They drive up to one of their secret lairs near a lake to dispose of the body, making their night even longer. Mickey hates having to work late. He isn’t very fond of killing people either, but sometimes that’s just part of the job. They change their clothes and take of their disguises before turning around and driving back home.

 

Once they were safely inside their own car, Mickey decides an explanation was due.

 

“What happened back there?” he asks, attentive eyes on the road.

 

“Cleaning girl”, Susan briefly explains.

 

“This late?”

 

“Must have forgotten something. Too bad. Wrong place, wrong time. You know how it goes.” 

 

Mickey nods. He does know. It isn’t the first time they have killed someone because of that and he doubts it will be the last one. Still, dumping a body always left him in a bad mood.

 

Their house is mostly dark except for a couple of lamps in the living room. Susan moves around the kitchen, starting on dinner, while Mickey goes upstairs to check on Chris.

 

He knocks lightly on their 12-year-old son’s door, opening it after he hears a muffled  _ come in _ in reply.

 

“Hey, buddy. Sorry we’re late. We had last minute clients who just couldn’t decide on anything.”

 

“It’s all right”, Chris answered, not looking up from the comic book he’s reading.

 

“Everything ok around here?”

 

Chris nods absentmindedly.

 

Mickey pursed his lips. Chris has never been a talkative child, but the more he grows up, the harder it becomes to get him to open up. There’s something else that becomes more difficult with each passing year, but Mickey pushes that to the back of his mind. Not need to deal with that right now.

 

“Mom is making dinner, ok? We’ll call you when it’s done. Don’t stall.”

 

“Sure.”

 

Mickey sighs and closes the door, walking back down the stairs and into the kitchen. With only a small glance at his wife to tell her to keep watch, he opens the door to the garage and goes back in to quickly report tonight’s mission. As he does so, he realizes he can’t remember the first time he’s done this. It’s all second nature to him now. Everything in the job is second nature to him, even the killing. That, however, he can remember doing for the first time. It hadn’t been in a mission, though. He wasn’t an agent back then, wasn’t even an adult yet. Mickey shakes his head. He usually suppresses those memories really well. He must be more tired than he thought if they were creeping back in like that.

 

He quickly finishes his report and goes back into the kitchen, watching as Susan fusses oven whatever she’s cooking that is smelling delicious. As she moves around the kitchen, he watches her, suddenly assaulted by another distant memory, of a much younger Susan eyeing him suspiciously in a beautifully decorated room back in Moscow. She wasn’t called Susan then, but Svetlana, a name she’d only tell him years later, when their son was born, and which he had ever mentioned, just as she had never mentioned the name he told her that night, Mikhailo. For all intents and purposes, they were Michael and Susan Harris, an American couple who owned a travel agency in Washington D.C. and lived happily with their son in a nice but modest house.

 

Susan finishes dinner and hollers over for Chris to come down and Mickey smiles, sitting with his wife and child around the table to enjoy a warm meal. All in a day’s work.

 

**********************************************

“We’ve got new neighbors”, Susan announces, staring out their bedroom window. 

 

Mickey stands behind her, looking at the small truck parked out front and the people unloading their belongings into the house. There are four adults and two children, all of them chatting loudly while going in and out of the house.

 

Mickey frowns. “That’s an awful lot of people. You think they’re all moving in?”

 

Susan shook her head. “Probably family and friends helping out. I don’t think they’d even fit all in the same house.”

 

Mickey shrugs and goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

 

“I’ll make some brownies.”

 

Mickey stares at Susan, slightly confused, before she clarifies. “To take to the neighbors.”

 

Mickey raises an eyebrow, but nods. Always best to know who’s around you.

 

*******************************

 

They go in the afternoon, Chris in tow, though he doesn’t look very excited. A tall and slender redhead opens the door and Mickey smiles friendly, glad for all his training, otherwise he’d surely be gawking, because the guy is incredibly good-looking.

 

“Good afternoon!” Susan is also smiling widely. “We’re the Harris’, we live across the street.”

 

Their new neighbor smiles back at them. “Ian Gallagher. Nice to meet you” he says, shaking hands with the couple.

 

“Susan.”

 

“Mickey. And this is Chris.”

 

Ian opens the door wide. “Please, come in.”

 

“Thank you” Susan says, smiling flirtatiously and stepping into the house.

 

“I hope this isn’t a bad time. We didn’t want to get in the way of your moving in, just welcome you into the neighborhood.”

 

“Also, I brought brownies. I figured you must be hungry after moving in.”

 

Like they’ve been summoned by the smell, two kids run into the kitchen. The girl, who seems a bit older, stops dead on her tracks upon seeing Chris, while the boy doesn’t seem deterred by the presence of strangers at his new home. 

 

“What’s that smell?” he asks curiously, already lifting the aluminium foil covering the dish that Ian has just set onto a dining table.

 

“Eric! Manners, please.” Another adult enters the kitchen, following the children. “I’m sorry, we’re still taming him. I’m Phillip Gallagher, but you can call me Lip.” He extends his hand to greet them.

 

“These are our new neighbors”, Ian explains. He frowns slightly, trying to remember. “Mike…”

 

“Mickey” he corrects “but Mike is just another abbreviation of my name anyway, so you’re not totally wrong.”

 

“Oh, sorry! Yes, Mickey, Susan…” She nods and he smiles, proud of himself. “...and Chris?” Their son nods and Ian’s smile grows. “Two out of three. Close enough.”

 

He turns back to the one called Lip. “They brought brownies to welcome us. This is my brother and these…” he gestures to the kids, now standing next to Lip “are my lovely niece, Heather, and my nephew, Eric.”

 

Heather mutters  _ nice to meet you _ , half hidden behind her father, while Eric pulls at Ian’s t-shirt. “Can I have a brownie now?”

 

Ian chuckles. “Go wash those grubby hands and you can.”

 

While Eric runs as fast as he can to the bathroom, Ian turns to the others. “Why don’t we move into the living room so we can sit?”

 

They sit comfortably on the couches, the kids sitting on the floor because they didn’t have enough sofas and chairs yet. Mickey and Susan tell the Gallaghers about their travel agency and hear about the places the brothers would like to visit, but which they’ve never had the opportunity to see. They end up talking about traveling and about different places in the world for a while, the conversation flowing easily. At some point, the children vanish to play video games on their newly installed console (Chris was very excited about this, as he doesn’t own a game console himself). 

 

“So, what brings you to the neighborhood?” 

 

Lip sighs. “A much needed change of scenery. Well, and a new job. We’re from Chicago, but I was offered a job at the Smithsonian which I just couldn’t refuse. Also, my wife passed away less than a year ago and the kids were going through a rough time.” He sighs. “Well, we all were. So I figured a big change was in order. It might be good for them to have something else to focus on. Or at least so I hope.”

 

“I’m sorry to hear about your wife” says Susan, and Mickey can almost hear the gears in her brain already trying to figure out how to best seduce Lip. Not that Lip would be of interest to them in the slightest, it’s just something they do so naturally that they almost can’t avoid it. “If you ever need a babysitter or something, we’d be glad to help. Chris will definitely be happy. He’s pretty much the only kid on the street, aside from a couple of babies, so he often gets bored.”

 

Lip smiles. “Thank you for the offer. I don’t think it’ll be necessary, since I’ve got Ian here to help me out, but I’ll keep it in mind. And likewise, if you guys want to have a date night, just let us know. Ian would love to take care of all the kids, right Ian?”

 

Ian scoffs and shakes his head, but he smiles nonetheless. “Sorry, my brother’s just being an idiot. But I would love that, actually. I really like kids.”

 

“And you don’t have any of your own?”, Susan pryes.

 

“No, not yet. Which is good, actually, because it meant I got to transfer here so Lip wouldn’t be by himself with the kids. They’re good kids, but god knows they can be a handful.”

 

Lip groans at that and takes a big gulp of the beer on his hand, making Ian chuckle.

 

“So what is it that you do?” Mickey asks. “Are you a scientist like your brother?”

 

Lip snickers and Ian kicks his foot. “I work for the FBI, actually.”

 

Mickey stares at him, trying his hardest not to look at Susan, his heart hammering inside his chest. On the one hand, having a neighbor who works for the FBI can prove to be a tremendous opportunity for finding out secret information. On the other hand, however, it can also be extremely dangerous.

 

“Wow, the FBI? That sounds important!” Susan says, recovering faster than him and already turning her flirt on.

 

Ian blushes a bit. “I hope so.”

 

“My brother is a regular hero!”

 

Ian kicks Lip’s foot again. “I sure am. Saved your ass a bunch of times.”

 

Mickey laughs, forcing the sound out, and risks a glance at Susan, who looks back at him. It’s only for a fraction of a second, but the look they share conveyed the same meaning: this is going to be interesting.

 

***********************************

It doesn’t take long for the Gallaghers to become a fixed feature on the Harris’ lives. They’ll constantly see each other while leaving their houses or arriving back, the kids, especially Eric, will often ask to visit each other so that they can play together and soon they are having dinner together once or twice per week. Mickey and Susan pay close attention to Ian, specifically, memorizing his schedule as best as they can, since it changes frequently, but keeping their distance when it comes to work. Ian never talks about his job and they know better than to ask and raise a suspicion that would otherwise have no reason to exist. 

 

They keep going on their missions, being as careful as they’ve always been, but taking some extra precautions to try to have at least one of them home early as often as possible - as much as their son believes them to be working late in a travel agency, frequently using the same excuse with an adult might not go down as smoothly. As Chris is now constantly on the Gallagher’s after school, they fear what he might say there. As much as possible, Susan tries to get the kids to stay over their house; she doesn’t say it, of course, but Mickey knows she doesn’t like Chris’ playing video games, which she sees as another unnecessary and futile thing for capitalism to push to the children. She thinks that of many things, remaining as socialist as ever. She despises living in America, only doing it for the greater good, for the chance of one day bringing it down and finally going back to Mother Russia. Mickey agrees with her, but only in part; he doesn’t see much of a problem with enjoying nice food or cars or even video games, as he is pretty sure kids in the Soviet Union wouldn’t mind playing them one bit. It is a sore point between them, so they rarely bring it up, all too familiar with the conclusion of that argument. So Mickey doesn’t argue when she asks Chris to bring his friends over instead of the other way around, instead choosing to take the chance to chat with Ian and Lip over some beers while Susan prepares the dinner. 

 

“I was thinking of bringing the kids over to the Smithsonian this weekend” Susan says, addressing Lip. “I figure it’d be a good opportunity for learning and Chris might find it interesting to see where you work. Have Heather and Eric been there yet?”

 

Lip shakes his head. “No, not yet. Heather is old enough and well-mannered, but I must confess I didn’t want to unleash Eric on them just yet. You know, new job and all that.”

 

“Oh, come on! He’s not that bad!” It’s Mickey who defends their youngest neighbor. “He’s always very polite when he comes over. I’m sure he’s able to behave well on a museum. I can go with, to help out.”

 

Lip seems to consider it for a second and Ian jumps into the conversation. “They’re right, you should take them. In fact, I want to go as well. We can all take the kids together and take the opportunity to see where you work.”

 

“That’s not fair, I don’t get to see where  _ you _ work”, argues Lip, making Ian roll his eyes.

 

“You could. There’s a tour and everything.”

 

“There is?” Susan’s still playing dumb. “I figure the FBI headquarters would be some sort of secret.”

 

Ian smiles and shakes his head. “There are some parts of the building that are forbidden for civilians, yes, but our location isn’t a secret, our missions are.”

 

Mickey forces a chuckle. “Well, if anyone is ever interested on the very interesting job of a travel agent, you can come by  _ our _ place of work at any time.”

 

They laugh and Susan announces dinner’s ready, calling out the kids and effectively changing the conversation to what they’ve seen at school.

 

*************************

They do end up visiting the museum, and Lip was right, trying to get Eric not to run around is harder work than it seemed at first. Mickey is surprised by how much fun he has with the Gallaghers. Sure, Lip complains a bit too much about nearly everything, but he’s smart and always willing to share his knowledge. Eric’s like a little hurricane, but he’s always willing to help out with anything and everything at all and is a very kind boy. Heather is lovely and graceful, always polite, and now that she knows them better, she’s been starting to come out of her shell a lot more (it is also clear that she has a crush on Chris, which possibly contributes to her shyness, but Chris seems oblivious to it). And Ian… Mickey looks over at Ian, who’s curiously examining an old airplane, smiling distractedly as he does so. He unconsciously wets his lips, eyes roaming Ian’s body, then his brain catches up with his body and he coughs and turns around, hoping no one was watching him. 

 

He walks away, turning to Lip, who’s explaining something or another to the kids, but his mind is far away. He chastises himself. Ian is a good looking man, there’s no denying it, but Mickey is a trained KGB agent, not to mention a homossexual man living in a world where being one could cause him many problems. Mickey should know better than to lose control in front of so many people. It has been a long time, however, since Mickey’s had sex with another man, and even longer since that sex was not for a mission, so it’s only logical he feels these desires, but he’ll have to find a escape route for them otherwise he risks losing control in much more noticeable ways. 

 

*******************

Mickey figures exercising can be a good way to let go of some of the pent up energy, so he decides to take up running in the morning. And if Ian just happens to do the same, then what’s the problem? It’s better, actually, Mickey thinks. That way he gets to see Ian often and maybe he’ll grow used to his beauty enough for the attraction he feels so subside. So he ties his shoes, briefly informs Susan, who’s in the shower, of his whereabouts, and sets off, leaving the house at the same time Ian is leaving his (which he’s obviously calculated).

 

He waves over to Ian, who waves back, crossing to join him on his side of the street.

 

“Hey! Fell off the bed?”

 

Mickey grins and shakes his head. “Doctor ordered more exercise, thought I’d try some running. Mind if I join you?”

 

Ian raises his eyebrows. “Not at all, but can you keep up with me?”

 

Mickey chuckles. “Is that a challenge? Oh, you’re ON!”

 

They run off, moving a lot faster than they should for two people who are just supposed to be exercising, but Mickey stops quickly. He’s not really that tired, being in shape from training for his missions, but he figures he should lie a bit in the beginning. He said it was doctor’s orders, after all.

 

“All right, all right, you win.” He exaggerates his pants, clutching his stomach. Ian starts to move his arms around in waves, moving his knees in and out.

 

Mickey laughs. “What on earth are you doing?”

 

“It’s my victory dance.”

 

That makes Mickey really roar with laughter, clutching his side harder because now he really is out of breath. The way Ian is grinning at him absolutely does not help him calm his heart down.

 

“Yeah, yeah, ok Jesse Owens. Can we slow down to a jog now?”

 

Ian nods, still smiling. “Sure, old man.”

 

“I’ll show you old!” Mickey pushes Ian playfully, running off again with Ian chasing him. And if he lets himself be tagged just so he can see that smile on Ian’s face again, no one needs to know that.

 

*******************************************

 

“Susan told me you’ve been going on runs with your neighbor”. 

 

Mickey carefully studies the letters he’s got, trying to shuffle them in his head to see if he can find a better word than CUT. It’s also a very good way to avoid meeting Gary’s eyes. Gary is their handler, the one responsible for assigning them missions, helping them out with anything needed and, one shouldn’t forget, keeping them in line.

 

“Did she?” He keeps his voice flat. “Yes, I have.”

 

“It would be incredibly valuable for us to get some information about FBI plans and internal system.”

 

“I do realize that.” He shifts the U around, eyes on the board. “It’s why I’m working him.”

 

“Good. Are you attempting to become his friend or is there more to be gained?”

 

Mickey blinks, making a calculated effort into maintaining his face expressionless. He puts his letters on the board, forming the word SUBTLE. It is a play and a message. He notices how Gary’s eyebrows go slightly up as he counts and jots out the points for the word. 

 

“Subtle. Hm. Good word.” Gary turns to his own letters as Mickey picks some more to substitute the ones he’s used.

 

They keep playing in silence from then on, until they’ve used up all the letters and Mickey has to once more admit defeat, as Gary wins 197 to mere 112.

 

“About your FBI neighbor…” Gary starts as Mickey picks up his jacket to leave.

 

“I’m working him”, Mickey says, nodding.

 

“Good. Just remember to be very careful.”

 

“I always am.”

 

****************************

“Damn. I’m beat!” Mickey sits on a bench, sighing heavily.

 

“You’re running farther already.” Ian sits next to him, even though they both know he could keep running for at least another mile. “And you’ve only been running with me for what, two weeks now? I can definitely see some improvement. Pretty soon you’ll be as in shape as I am”

 

Mickey shakes his head, catching his breath. “I’m pretty sure no matter how much I run that is  _ never _ happening.”

 

Ian shakes his head as well and doesn’t say anything, but Mickey can see his smile from the corner of his eye.

 

“Just give me five before we head back, ok?” 

 

Ian nods. “No problem. Not very eager to get to work anyway.”

 

“Well, being an FBI agent has got to be stressful.” Mickey feigns nonchalance. “God knows being a travel agent is already stressful enough. I can’t even begin to imagine the kind of pressure you must be under.”

 

“Yeah, it’s no picnic. I wish I could tell you about it. It’d be nice to be able to share some of the stuff with someone I trust.”

 

Mickey shakes his head. “Oh, please, don’t. I’d only get more stressed out being worried about you.”

 

Ian turns his head to him, frowning. “You worry about me?”

 

“Of course, man.” He shrugs. “You’re a freaking FBI agent. That can’t be very safe. And you’re my friend, so of course I worry.”

 

Ian smiles at that and Mickey notices a deep blush coloring his cheeks that have nothing to do with exertion.

 

Mickey stands up suddenly. “Shall we go back?”

 

Ian grins, jumping up. “Race you!” He runs off before Mickey can process what just happened. 

 

“Oh, come on, man! Why do we always have to do that?”

 

*************************

“Thanks for inviting me over” Mickey turns a chair around and sits with his knees around the back of it. “God knows with Susan and Chris away I’d only be having pizza rolls tonight if you hadn’t.”

 

“It’s no big deal” Ian replies, tossing Mickey a beer and opening one for himself. “Besides, having dinner by myself sucks. I’m used to conversation and honestly a lot of noise during dinner.”

 

“How long is Lip staying in Chicago?”

 

“Should be a week, but I think he’s going to leave the kids there with their maternal grandmother for a few extra days. That is, of course, if he’s able to part with them.”

 

“It must be hard for him, not being with them, even if not for a long time.”

 

“Mhm” Ian assents, mouth around the top of the bottle. “But he also needs to meet new people, so I’m hoping he’ll seize this opportunity to do just that.”

 

“New people as in new friends or…” Mickey raises his eyebrows and Ian smirks. 

 

“Both. It wouldn’t hurt for him to make some new friends. But yeah, mostly, he needs to get laid. He’s been way too high-strung, you know? I’m pretty sure the last time he got some action was in the 70s.”

 

“What about you?”

 

Ian chokes on his beer, coughing a bit. “Me?” He takes a big gulp of the beer. “What about me?”

 

“When was the last time  _ you _ got some action? You’re seeming a bit too stressed. You work way too much. Time to have some fun, man.”

 

Ian blushes deeply and shakes his head, looking down. “Yeah, I guess. I mean, it has been a while.”

 

“Anyone you’re interested in?” Mickey probes.

 

“Well…” Ian lifts his eyes to gaze straight into Mickey’s blue orbs. Mickey stares back at him but remains silent, giving him time to collect his thoughts. He does his best to school his thoughts and to appear simply innocently curious, but his heart is pounding and his mind is reeling. The tension between them is so thick it’s almost palpable. Mickey licks his lips and he doesn’t miss how Ian’s eyes drop to stare at his mouth for a second before he gulps and looked away. That seems to undo the spell. “Not really.”

 

Ian quickly gets up and opens the oven, peeking inside. “The lasagna is ready” he announces, a bit louder than necessary, since Mickey is the only one there.

 

Mickey sighs, running a hand through his hair before Ian turns back around. “Well great, because I’m ready for it too!”

 

They eat in silence for a while, the small moment from before hanging awkwardly between them. Eventually, Mickey asks Ian if he’s already seen Blade Runner, the movie everyone’s been talking about, to which Ian replies that he’s actually got a copy of it in his house, but he hasn’t seen it yet.

 

“Wait, what? The movie is still in the theaters, how the hell do you have a tape of it?”

 

Ian chuckles and shrugs, trying and failing to appear nonchalant. “We apprehended a bunch of illegal stuff, this was with it, so I… took it.”

 

“You stole it?!”

 

“No! I mean… not literally. It’s up for grabs, nobody really keeps track of them. So why not?” There’s a small smile on his lips which Mickey can’t help but mirror.

 

“So… we watching it or not?”

 

Ian full on grins back at him. 

 

They finish the meal, Ian insisting Mickey leaves the dishes in the sink that he’ll take care of it in the morning. They sit on the couch, each with a beer bottle, and Ian puts the movie on. The lights have been turned off so they can see the screen better and every so often Mickey steals a glance at Ian, who looks back at him and smiles, but quickly returns his eyes to the TV. Other times Mickey feels Ian’s eyes on him and it’s Ian’s turn to look away, red cheeks visible even in the darkness.

 

Mickey slouches on the couch, subtly scooting closer to Ian, his head nearly touching Ian’s shoulder. Ian mirrors him, sliding down the couch to get more comfortable. They look at each other again and this time none of them look away. Mickey wets his lips and again Ian eyes are drawn by the action, but this time he keeps staring at Mickey’s mouth, his own tongue darting out to copy the small gesture. They stare at each other’s mouths for a heartbeat before locking eyes and the desire running between them is undeniable and incontrolable anymore. 

 

It’s Ian who closes the gap between them, gripping the back of Mickey’s head and locking their lips together, but Mickey returns the kiss in earnest, balling his hand on Ian’s shirt while resting his other hand on the back of Ian’s head, bringing him as close as he can. A chill runs up his spine, despite his whole body feeling like its about to combust. He lets himself get lost in their kiss for a long moment before pulling back, eyes wide. 

 

“I… I should go.”

 

He stands up and is out the door before Ian can even call his name. He’s pretty sure if Ian were to do that he wouldn’t be able to resist running back and jumping into his arms.

 

So he runs back to his house, locking the door behind him and running up to his bedroom. He takes off his clothes and gets into a cold shower. His plan has worked and he’s gotten Ian to reveal himself and kiss him, but he needs to keep his mind clear for the rest of it to go smoothly. Unfortunately for him, keeping his emotions in check is a lot harder for him when his redhead neighbor is involved.

 

*************************************

Mickey peeks from behind the closed curtains as Ian leaves for his run the next morning. He stops, looking up at Mickey’s window, as if sensing he’s there. He stretches on the sidewalk, giving Mickey time to join him. When it becomes clear that it won’t happen he finally starts his run. When he returns, Mickey has already left for work. 

 

It’s already dark out when Mickey gets back. He takes off his shoes and jacket and undoes his tie and is in the process of putting some pizza rolls in the oven when the doorbell rings. He knows who it is, of course, but debates with himself for a minute on whether he should open the door or just pretend he was in the shower and didn’t hear it. It rings again and he makes up his mind, walking to the front door in a few long strides and yanking it open. 

 

Ian looks startled, his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted. It makes Mickey want to do very, very bad things to him and he has to take a deep breath before stepping aside to let him in. Ian walks in, presenting him with a case of beer.

 

“I… brought a peace offering. It’s imported.”

 

Mickey frowns. “Peace offering? I didn’t know there was a war.”

 

Ian drops his eyes and bites his lower lip. “Yeah, well… After what happened last night, I thought…”

 

Mickey interrupts him by stepping closer to him and taking the case from his hands. He can see the flicker of hope in Ian’s eyes and it makes something in his stomach flutter. “Thanks for the beer.” 

 

Ian gulps, eyes fixed on Mickey’s. “You’re welcome.”

 

Mickey takes a step back and smile. “Wanna crack them open with me?”

 

Ian grins and nods and they sit around the kitchen table. 

 

“So how does it end?”

 

Ian frowns, confused. “How does what end?”

 

“The movie.”

 

“Oh. Well, I didn’t finish it.”

 

“We have to finish it some time then.” Mickey gives Ian a small smile, which he returns.

 

“Yeah. Yeah we do.”

 

“I’m making pizza rolls. Are you hungry?”

 

“Yes” Ian answers, eyes still glued on Mickey, and it’s crystal clear he isn’t talking about pizza rolls.

 

Mickey jumps up, grabbing Ian’s shirt over the table and smashing their lips together. Ian lets out a low moan before parting his lips and allowing Mickey to slip his tongue inside his mouth. His hands come up to hold Mickey’s head between them, as if he’s afraid it’s all an illusion. It’s wet and passionate and almost ferocious, a mess of tongues and lips and teeth before Mickey finally pulls away, panting. 

 

He holds Ian’s gaze for less than a second before his going around the table and falling on his knees in front of the other man, hands frantically working on his belt buckle. Ian lifts his hips to allow Mickey to pull his pants all the way to his ankles and Mickey locks his gaze with Ian’s again before taking him into his mouth. 

 

Ian groans, throwing his head back. Mickey’s movements are fast, bordering on desperate, and Ian surrenders completely. It’s only a matter of a few minutes before Ian’s coming into his mouth, Mickey swallowing his cum like a pro before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He laughs smugly at the dumbstruck look on Ian’s face and gets up, leaving Ian to pull his pants up again. He gets the oven mitt and takes the pizza rolls out of the oven, smirking when he sees they’re perfectly done.

 

He sits and eats and Ian just watches him, grinning, and Mickey smiles back at him, totally on purpose in order to get Ian to trust him and tell him FBI secrets - or at least that’s what he tells himself.

 

He finishes his dinner and sets the plate in the sink before turning to go up the stairs. He stops with his foot on the bottom stair.

 

“You ready to go again or you need some time, firecrotch?”

 

He lets Ian fuck him, hard and rough while he’s on all fours on the bed he usually chastely shares with Susan, and if Ian has any restraints against having him there he doesn’t show them. On the contrary, he slams into him like there’s no tomorrow, his fingers gripping Mickey’s hips, the whole bed shaking under the weight of their movements. It’s been so long since Mickey last had a guy fuck him, and even longer since the guy was actually any good at it, that he can’t help the loud groans and whimpers that slip through his lips nearly incessantly until finally his vision goes white and it’s like all sounds disappear and he’s falling and soaring at the same time.

 

He falls onto the bed, limbs giving in, but Ian isn’t done with him yet. He turns Mickey around, straddling his waist and jerking off with fast movements and Mickey opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, waiting. Ian grunts as he comes all over Mickey’s face, his semen reaching mostly Mickey’s mouth, but a bit of the cheeks, nose and chin as well. They both laugh lightheartedly and Ian presses his mouth against Mickey’s before licking his face, cleaning him of the cum, and kissing him again, his taste on both their tongues.

 

When they break apart Ian is smiling, his eyes nearly glowing with happiness, and it makes Mickey’s stomach drop.

 

He sits up, pushing Ian out off of him. “Well, this was fun, but you should go.” He doesn’t look back, not wanting to see the hurt on Ian’s face. “We don’t want one of the neighbors to see you and get any wrong ideas”, he explains, heading for the shower. He hears the door slam shut and sighs, letting the warm spray wash his exterior and hoping there was a way of cleaning his soul as well.

 

**********************************

They don’t talk about it, but there’s no need for it when there’s that much heat in their eyes. They go for jogs together in the morning, like always, except now they sometimes manage to sneak into an isolated alley or an abandoned building to fool around or even, once, an empty baseball field, hidden in the dugouts. They visit each other in the evenings, often having dinner together, like always, but now it’s tense and also thrilling and they have to fight the urge to look at each other and if they lucky out and one of them is alone at the house, then they barely even touch the food at all. They see each other on weekends as well, taking the kids somewhere or just going for a stroll, as always, but now they try to get some alone time, saying they’re going for a jog or a swim or to play squash or anything else that won’t make Lip or the kids want to join them.

 

“Don’t fall in love with him” Susan warns Mickey, and he scoffs, ignoring the part of his brain telling him he already has.

 

*******************************

“Sorry, I’m not in the mood” Ian says when Mickey tries to pull him closer for a kiss. 

 

Mickey sits back on the concrete of the abandoned rooftop they’re sitting on. It’s one of their favorite spots, being close enough to their homes that they could get there quickly and spend a long time together, but also not that close that it meant risk being followed (not that Mickey wasn’t always looking out for anyone who could be following though - it’s his job,after all).

  
  


“Something wrong?” 

 

Ian sighs, eyes on the horizon where the sun is only beginning its ascent behind the other buildings. “Just… work stuff.” He sighs again. “Which I can’t tell you about because my work is super secret and I can’t ever tell any little thing about it to anyone in my life, not even my brother, because it’s all incredibly classified and who cares that I just need to fucking talk to someone every now and then like a normal fucking person?”

 

Mickey puts a hand in Ian’s shoulder, squeezing it slightly. “How can I help?”

 

Ian gives him a lopsided smile. “I guess… You know what, I’m going to tell you because I’m sick and tired of having to keep everything a secret.”

 

“Oh, erm, are you sure? I mean… I don’t think I  _ want _ to know about it and I definitely don’t want to get you in trouble.”

 

Ian smiles a little bit wider. “Then just don’t tell anyone.”

 

Mickey frowns. “Of course I won’t.”

 

“No, I know. I trust you. And really, I won’t tell you any big secret. I just want to… vent a bit. That’s all.”

 

He leans back, resting his weight on his open palms behind him. “My boss doesn’t trust me.”

 

“As in… He thinks you’re going to betray him?”

 

Ian chuckles. “No, not like that. There’s a… well, an operation that I’ve been running, well, sort of. There’s something that I want to do that could benefit us a lot, but it’s also really risky. The thing is, I know what I’m doing. I know the risk, but I know I can pull it off. But my boss doesn’t think so and he shut the thing down. I’ve tried time and again to talk to him, but he won’t be persuaded and it’s just so frustrating! I could be doing something big, but instead I feel… useless. I’m doing jobs a rookie could be doing when I’ve been trained for so much more.”

 

Mickey nods. “I see. Well, not really, because I’m my own boss and also not an FBI agent, but I do understand where you're coming from. I’ve got to say though, if your boss is somehow keeping you safer, I can’t say I mind much.”

 

Ian pouts a bit and Mickey gently touches his cheek with his fingertips. “Wouldn’t want you doing anything that could take you away from me now, could I?”

 

Ian smiles, his worries momentarily forgotten as their lips meet in a sweet kiss.

 

********************************

 

“Ian told me stuff about the FBI.”

 

Gary pauses mid play and Mickey has a small joy of knowing for once he’s surprised the old man.

 

“What kind of  _ stuff _ ?” He says the word ‘stuff’ like it’s a lesser word, a word not worthy of being used by someone like him which he’s only now saying because he wants to repeat what Mickey said. 

 

“Nothing big. Yet. He says he’s got some operation he wants to do, something big, but his boss doesn’t allow him to because it’s too risky.”

 

Gary nods, deep in thought. “And how does Ian feel about that?”

 

“Frustrated, of course. He think his boss doesn’t trust him with this, like he’s not good enough.”

 

“Frustrated enough that he’d sway to our side?”

 

Mickey worries his lip, wondering. On the one hand, he’d love for there to be no more secrets between Ian and him. On the other hand, if there were to happen it would put Ian in grave danger. He feels a sense of dread dominating him at the mere thought. “No, I don’t think so. Ian’s got incredible work-ethic. He may be frustrated, but he’s not about to turn on everything he cares about.”

 

“Well, then… you’re going to have to make him care about you the most.”

 

**************************************

 

“You fell in love with him, didn’t you?!”

 

“What?” Mickey glances at his wife from the driver’s seat. It’s not their car. They’re in disguise, Mickey sporting a blond wig, a big cowboy hat and a ridiculous mustache while Susan wears large-rimmed glasses and a shoulder-length dark brown wig. They’re going to a factory in Tennessee pretending to be inspectors, the true goal being to obtain secret plans for a super camera that is to be used in a satellite, which will make it possible for the United States to see things never seen before - including, potentially, the Soviet Union. The only part of said satellite being made in this particular factory is the camera, so it isn’t ultra secure, but it still requires a high level of stealth.

 

“What are you talking about?” He knows, of course, but he figures he can gain a few precious seconds to compose himself and think of an answer by deflecting the question.

 

“Don’t play dumb. Carrot boy. You love him?”

 

He shakes his head, eyes back on the road. “He’s a mission.”

 

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

 

“It’s a honey trap. You know how it goes. It’s not like I’ve never done this before - or you, for that matter.”

 

“Uh-hum. If you say so.”

 

******************************

 

Considering what he does for a living, Mickey was always highly aware of the dangers of the job and the possibility, imminence even, of death. But being stabbed by a jealous lover was  _ not _ how he’d imagined he’d go.

 

The guy was a nobody, but his wife was a secretary in a biotechnology laboratory, someone who could provide them with great intel and who they were indeed befriending. There were no attempts on Mickey’s part to seduce the wife whatsoever, his only job being to distract the husband while Susan talked to the woman and quickly charmed her way into a best friend position. Yet, somehow, something set him off. Apparently Mickey had looked at the wife in an inappropriate way - which he hadn’t, he really hadn’t, but then it was too late. The husband had picked a knife from the kitchen table and turned on Mickey, stabbing him in the ribs. 

 

He looks down at his wound, too stunned to feel anything for a a few seconds. And then there’s pain and he’s falling to his knees. He doesn’t see her approaching but suddenly Susan is there next to him, coaching him to focus on her, and the wife is screaming and the husband is apologizing, but Mickey just stares down at his wound, wondering if this is it. It’s not his first time being stabbed either, but this time feels different. He feels lightheaded and confused. The fact that he absolutely had not been expecting this to happen or to come from who it did numbs him. 

 

And then his being pulled to his feet by Susan, who’s shouting an excuse at the couple and half carrying, half dragging him out of the house and into the car. She drives to one of their safehouses, a secluded location with supplements should someone get lost or wounded or needing to hide for a while. She tells him to hold a cloth firmly against his stomach, which he does until his vision goes blurry and he passes out. 

 

*************************************************

 

He doesn’t die, thankfully. That’s good because, not only does he not wish to go yet, but it would also have been a tremendously ridiculous death for a spy. Stabbed by jealous husband. Pff.

 

He does however have to rest and take it easy for a while. They tell Chris that he has some back pain, which he quickly buys. He’s too young to care why his father is in bed anyway, probably assuming it’s just something that comes with being old like he no doubt thinks his parents are. To the employees at the travel agency Susan says it’s a kidney stone and that he’ll soon be back, which is a good excuse and gets him cards and chocolate out of pity, so he can’t complain. She tells the same to Ian when he comes by the house, wondering why Mickey hasn’t appeared for their morning run. Mickey doesn’t know whether he believes her or not, since she doesn’t allow Ian up to his room under the excuse the Mickey is sleeping because of the medicine, but he hopes he does. He can’t have Ian doubting him now, not when he’s actually trusting him enough to open up about his job.

 

With nothing else to do but worry, he lets his mind wander through an alternative reality where things are different, where he doesn’t have a secret and highly dangerous job, where Ian’s job isn’t equally dangerous and where them being together is accepted. He dreams of being with Ian, just the two of them, goofing around and being happy just for being together. He doesn’t even attempt to deny his own feelings to himself - he’s way past that point now.

 

“Do you ever think about going back?” he asks Susan later that night. “Just go back home, do something else with our lives, something that isn’t likely to get us killed within the next five years?”

 

“I plan on doing this job until there’s no more need for anyone to do this job” she answers dryly.

 

“So you don’t miss it?”

 

She sighs, sitting on the foot of the bed while drying her long hair with a towel. “Of course I do.” Her voice sounds a lot softer now. “But we have a mission here.” She takes in Mickey’s look and gives him a small smile. “But yes, I guess someday I do want to go back. Show Chris where I lived when I was a child, teach him about his roots, our culture.” She sighs again. “Who knows, maybe someday.”

 

*****************************************************

“What makes people want to kill other people?” Ian and Mickey are in bed together, after enjoying two heavy rounds of sex and some cuddling. Susan is out of town and Chris is staying at friend’s house, so they have the house to themselves. 

 

Mickey turns to face Ian, frowning. “Sorry, what?”

 

“I just… I can’t understand what would make humans fight other humans, to the point of torturing them and killing them. Why do we do this? Because we’re from different places, we have different political views, different religions, different skin colour?” He pauses, looking down at the sheets. “Because we love people some say we’re not supposed to love?” He shakes his head. “It’s bullshit.”

 

“So… you’ve never killed anyone?” Ian stares up at him, an angry look on his face. “I mean… you do work for the FBI.”

 

Ian sighs, resting his back on the pillows. “Yes. I have. But I’m not proud of it.”

 

Mickey nods. He understand the sentiment more than Ian knows. He also isn’t proud of any of the many deaths on his shoulders. 

 

“Is there something bothering you? Anything I can do to help?”

 

Ian shakes his head. “We caught one of them. A russian spy.”

 

Mickey feels like someone dropped a bucket of icy water on him, but his expression remains neutral.

 

“Well, not a spy per se, more like a scientist. He had this… vial with him with some sort of virus in it. He broke it when we surrounded him, and infected himself. Now he’s… he’s not dead, not yet, but from what I’ve seen and heard, he probably wishes he were. This illness is, it’s  _ horrible _ . And it was supposed to be eradicated here, you see, but it wasn’t, not when it could be used as a weapon. And with what purpose? I mean, I’ve killed too, and I know in a war casualties will happen, but I don’t know… Somehow a bullet to the chest feels more  _ honest _ , you know?”

 

Mickey knows, of course. He knows all too well. He knows the scientist Ian’s talking about, knows the disease and what it does to a human body, knows even when the guy was caught by the FBI. His name was Walter and Mickey and Susan were supposed to meet him the night before. He was going to give them that vial. It was the product of a whole life of espionage, decades and decades living as an undercover agent, and this was the result. Walter was going to deliver it and finally go back to Moscow to be reunited with his family. And now, he never would.

 

Mickey nods, feeling a knot blocking his throat. “It sounds horrible” is all he can say in response. 

 

“And you know what’s worse?” Ian continues. “It was our weapon. We, Americans, had it. All this guy did was steal a sample of it.”

 

Mickey knew that as well, of course, but he can see that Ian still believed in doing something for the greater good. Mickey was too jaded to believe such a thing existed.

 

“We’re just as bad as them” Ian continues. “Americans, Russians, Germans, Cubans, South Africans… We’re all human. And we all keep hurting each other, hurting the innocent who have done nothing wrong. And I just don’t understand  _ why _ ?”

 

He sighs deeply and falls back onto the bed. “I shouldn’t have told you this. I shouldn’t have told you any of this.”

 

“It’s okay.” Mickey lies beside him, head resting on his shoulder. “I won’t tell anyone.”

 

*************************************

 

He tells Gary as soon as he can, of course, but for once he does feel guilty doing so. Gary thanks him, telling him Walter’s family will be told that he died a hero. Mickey can’t help the thought that they’d probably prefer him to be living, not a hero. Also, he wasn’t even that, as he hadn’t been able to secure a sample of that illness to be able to develop an antidote. 

 

Except they end up literally digging his grave to get that sample about a week later, a long and arduous job that ends up with Susan having to kill one of them, a young man she had been training, because he gets exposed to the virus and if it spread they’d all die. Also, she kills him quickly and without any suffering, which was not how he’d go otherwise, so she’s actually being merciful. Still, it leaves Mickey with a sour taste in his mouth and the growing desire to abandon all of it and go back to Moscow.

 

*****************************

 

“Chris got suspended.”

 

Mickey stares at his wife, calmy stirring a pot by the stove. “What? Why, what did he do?”

 

“Got into a fight.”

 

Mickey sighs. “Did you talk to him?”

 

Susan shakes her head. “I thought maybe you could? I was afraid if I did I’d end up breaking his neck.”

 

Mickey snorts and goes up the stairs to softly knock on his son’s bedroom door before entering. He looks at his son’s black eye and winces.

 

“The other guy looks worse” Chris murmurs.

 

“Good. And I’m sure he deserved it, right?”

 

“He’s a jerk.”

 

Mickey sits next to Chris on his bed. “Care to elaborate?”

 

“He’s a snob. Keeps rubbing his money in everyone’s faces.” 

 

“And what exactly happened today?” 

 

“He kept taunting me with his new sneakers, saying how great they are and how much better they are for playing basketball.”

 

“And…?”

 

“And then I punched him?”

 

“And then you punched him?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Mickey sighs. “Chris… You know what you did was wrong, don’t you? I get that this boy is far from nice, but that doesn’t mean you can punch him for that.”

 

Chris doesn’t answer, gaze fixed on the hem of his shirt, which he’s been fiddling with for the past couple of minutes.

 

“I’m going to have to ground you.”

 

That makes the boy look up, eyes wide. “What? No! That’s not fair.”

 

“Yes, it is, and you know it is.” 

 

“Ugh, I hate you! You’re never on my side, never!” 

 

Mickey takes a deep breath, willing himself to calm down and not snap at his 12-year-old.

 

“Regardless, no TV for you for two weeks, and no going out either. You’re going to study and help with chores, that’s all.”

 

He stands up and leaves, ignoring Chris’ cries of “not fair” and “hate you all” and walking back down the stairs.

 

“He’s grounded for two weeks” he tells Susan.

 

She snorts. “See, that’s what I sent you. If it were me he’d have met my belt. You’re much more lenient.” She gives him a small smile and a wink. “But in a good way.”

 

Mickey grabs a beer from the fridge, taking several gulps before speaking again. “He doesn’t have any friends.”

 

Susan frowns. “Sure he does.”

 

Mickey shakes his head, lips around the tip of the bottle. “No, he doesn’t.”

 

“He went to a sleepover just last week.”

 

“Yes, for the first time ever. And when I picked him up the next morning and asked him about it he said it was ‘okay’, but when I pressed he confessed that he’s not really close to the host and ended up watching the others play while not being allowed to join.” He raises his eyebrows for emphasis. “He’s got no friends.”

 

Susan turns off the stove and sits across from him. He passes her the beer and she takes a big gulp. “So, what do you suggest we do.”

 

Let’s run away, take him with us, take Ian too, go live somewhere else where we can be happy - that’s what he wants to say, but of course, he doesn’t. “I don’t know” is what he actually says.

 

She gets up, takes the pack of cigarettes she hides in one of the cupboards and lights one. She stands by the window to allow the smoke to drift outside. She takes one, two, three long drags, tapping the ashes in the sink before putting it off and throwing it in the bin. 

 

“You want out, don’t you?” 

 

The question takes Mickey by surprise, distracted as he had been, but he doesn’t try to pretend he doesn’t know what she means.

 

“You want to play house with carrot boy? Spend all day rubbing your dicks together?”

 

“Ideally.”

 

“He won’t go for it, you know that. If you tell him the truth, we’re both dead.”

 

Mickey nods, eyes fixed on the table. “I understand that.”

 

“Do you? Do you really? Because it seems to me that you’re playing with fire and if you were the only one about to get burned I wouldn’t mind but it’s my neck on the line as well, and Chris’, and I’m not going to allow you to put all of us in risk!”

 

“It was just wishful thinking. I’m not actually going to tell him.”

 

“I wish I could believe you.”

 

So did Mickey.

 

***********************************

 

“Oh, god!” Mickey balls the sheet into his fists as Ian devours his ass, his tongue working furiously around his rim before plunging in and out in quick dabs, just to tease the rim again. He spreads Mickey’s cheeks, gripping them firmly, and dives in, turning Mickey into a blabbering, incoherent mess as he moans and groans and freaking howls, shouting Ian’s name as he comes untouched. He rests his forehead on the pillow, panting like he’s just run a marathon. Ian laughs, smacking his ass firmly, and he yelps weakly. He turns his head to look over his shoulder, watching Ian jerk off furiously, his eyes glued on Mickey’s ass as his breathing becomes more quicker and soft whimper escapes his throat. He thrusts into Mickey and both moan loudly, Mickey biting his lip. He pulls off and thrusts in again, then again and he’s coming, hips moving erratically as he spills inside Mickey’s ass. He pulls off, watching, as Mickey feels it, the cum drip down onto the bed. Then he leans down to lick Mickey clean again and it feels like his whole body is on fire, all his hypersensitive nerves shouting at him with a mixture of pain and pleasure. Finally Ian drops beside him, his grin so wide that there’s nothing left for Mickey to do but to kiss him senseless. 

 

He turns on his side and allows Ian to cuddle him, neither of them caring about the mess on the sheets and on their bodies. It’s not their house, anyway.

 

They’re at a lake house, a retreat not that far from the city, but isolated enough that no one will come wandering. Mickey told Ian that the house had been offered by a client, but in fact it had been Gary who suggested Mickey spent some alone time with Ian to see if he could extract anything else from him. Mickey felt horrible lying to him, which was a first because he was used to lying, but a chance to spent two whole days alone with Ian was too good to pass.

 

“Hm… I wish we could stay this way forever.” Ian murmurs into his ear, inhaling deeply.

 

“Me too.” Mickey nestles himself deeper into Ian’s embrace and allows his mind to drift away. He’s almost asleep when he hears Ian speak again.

 

“We could do it, you know?”

 

“Do what?” he asks, his voice hoarse, but his heart is already beating faster with the brief thought that maybe Ian wishes for the same thing he does.

 

“Be together.”

 

Mickey turns around to face his lover and brings Ian’s hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles. “You think so?”

 

Ian nods, a determined look at his face. “We can go somewhere else, somewhere far, maybe even Mexico. It’d be just the two of us. No one needs to know. We can get new jobs, new identities even.”

 

Mickey frowns. “You’d leave the FBI for me?”

 

“I would leave  _ everything _ for you.”

 

Mickey’s breath catches in his throat for a second, his dream intensifying before realization comes crashing down. Ian doesn’t know the truth about him. If he did, he’d hate him and he’d never want to be with him. 

 

He stares at Ian, unsure of what to say. He wants to pour his heart out to him, to tell him everything, to end once and for all with the lies. It’s there, at the tip of his tongue, but if he tells him… He knows he can trust Ian, it’s hurting him he’s afraid of. So he holds his tongue, gazing deeply into Ian’s eyes in search of the right words to say.

 

“I  _ love _ you.” It’s Ian who says it first, taking Mickey by surprise, so much so, indeed, that he ends up saying the first thing that comes to mind.

 

“I work for the KGB.”

 

Ian’s eyes go wide and he sits up, moving backwards. “You WHAT?”

 

Mickey sits up as well, nearly as shocked as Ian because he had  _ not _ planned to say that. It has slipped out, however, and now he has to deal with the consequences.

 

He raises his hands in front of his bare chest, open palms turned to Ian in what he hopes is a calming gesture.

 

“It’s ok, it’s…” He sighs. “It’s true. But… but I do lo…”

 

“Don’t say it! Don’t you DARE say it!” Ian’s standing now, reaching for his clothes.

 

“Ian, no, wait...Listen, listen, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but it’s not like I could. Ian, you… you have to trust me here.”

 

“Trust you? TRUST YOU? You… you’re the enemy! And you lied to me! Oh my god, you used me! You used me for information, didn’t you? And I GAVE you! I told you things I should never, ever tell anyone, because I trusted you and you… you…Oh, god!”

 

Mickey can feel the tears welling up and his eyes and he tries to blink them away, but a couple of them escape and run down his cheek. “Ian, please… I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. You  _ have _ to believe me. I…I…” He stops himself before saying the word love, knowing it’ll only make Ian madder at the moment. But oh, he does love him, very much, and it’s making his chest ache so much he has to sit down to catch his breath.

 

Ian finishes getting dressed and starts picking up what little he’d spread around and shoving into his bag. Mickey takes deep breaths, his mind reeling, unable to focus on what he wants to say, unable to find a way to make Ian listen to him, to make him stay. Truth is, he deserves this. He’s lied to Ian from day one and then seduced him and Ian was right, it had been for information. It had backfired though, and he’d fallen in love, just like Susan had said he would, and he hates that she was right, hates that Ian is right, because no, Mickey doesn’t deserve him. He drops his head between his hands, trying to slow his racing thoughts enough to grasp one, to make sense of something, but it’s like he’s in a roller coaster from hell and there’s no way out but through.

 

He hears Ian open the door and looks up, tears forming once more in his eyes. “Don’t…” he chokes, pleading with Ian.

 

“Don’t what?”

 

He stays there, tears falling freely from his eyes, his heart ripped at his chest, a big lump in his throat.

 

Ian shakes his head and leaves, slamming the door behind him, leaving Mickey to try to pick up the pieces of his heart, wondering how they went from heaven to hell so quickly.

 

***************************************

 

It doesn’t take more than a couple of minutes for Mickey to clear his head and get into motion. After wiping his tears and taking a few deep breaths, he rushes to the telephone in the house, calling his own home. He can’t tell Susan the whole story, of course not, but she knows where he is and who he’s with, and they already have a protocol for ‘we’ve been discovered’ situations. They have, after all, been doing this for 15 years. So he basically tells her as calmly as he can that they’re going to a new hotel he’s been evaluating because one of their employees can’t do it, which is code for ‘take Chris, grab a few things and meet me at the secret house in the woods’. She sounds delighted at the phone, saying how lovely it’ll be to take a few days off and that she’ll take a swimsuit so she can enjoy their pool, which Mickey knows reads as ‘I’ll tell Gary and meet you as soon as possible’. They really aren’t newbies. 

 

Then he’s moving, taking his things and fleeing from the house, thanking his luck that he and Ian had traveled in different cars in order not to draw attention to themselves. And then he drives. He drives and drives, doing his best to keep his mind focused on the road, despite the visions of orange hair, bluish-green eyes and freckles dotting fair skin that keep assailing him. He remembers Ian’s smile, but mostly, his look of utter betrayal at what Mickey had confessed. The hurt in his eyes, his slumped shoulders, the tone of his voice as he left, everything makes Mickey want to kick himself for telling the truth. He knows, objectively, that Ian was bound to find out at some point, there’s no way Mickey could hold it forever, not with how much he loved the other man. Still, he wonders if he should have just told him he wasn’t interested anymore, maybe moved somewhere else. It would have been easier, kinder.

 

He lets his mind wander through different scenarios, knowing fully well it doesn’t actually matter - what’s done, it’s done. No way to move but forward.

 

Susan and Chris are already there when they arrive, Chris in one of the bedrooms, lying on his belly and reading a book, not even making eye contact when Mickey greets him. Susan is in the kitchen, checking what they have stored and doing a mental count of how long they can stay there. Mickey takes her outside, away from Chris’ ears, should he ever take his eyes off that book, and tells her everything. She’s furious, as she should, and he apologizes even though he knows it’s not enough, it’ll never be enough. He put her in danger, put their son in danger, and all because of what? Love, he wants to say, but cock is what she says. He explains that it’s deeper than that, that he loves Ian, and she shakes her head. Didn’t she tell him not to fall in love? She did. Guess she should have imagined he would anyway. He’d always been a little bit rebellious.

 

She calms down eventually, once a few days pass and nobody comes after them. They call their central and are told, in as vague a term as possible, that someone has been to their place to water the plants and everything seems fine, they can enjoy the hotel a bit longer, meaning there seems to be no surveillance at their house, but they should stay put a bit longer to be sure.

 

They end up staying for two whole weeks, spending their time playing board games, watching the news and a couple of programs in an old TV set, and talking. And of course, they all do their own things too. Chris finishes the two books he’s brought a long, Susan exercises and Mickey takes long walks through the woods. It’s actually a good vacation, if they ignore the reason for taking it.

 

In the end, it’s almost anti-climatic how nothing happens. They get clearance to go back and arrive together on a Sunday afternoon, Susan parking their older car, the one she usually drives, in the garage, and Mickey parking the brand new Camaro Susan had scolded him for buying in front of the house. He glances at the Gallaghers house before stepping out of the car, wishing Ian would just come out so they could talk. And it’s like someone for once was actually listening to his prayers, because that’s what happens when he’s about to enter the house.

 

“Hey!” He hears Ian shout and turns, breath held in suspension. 

 

“Welcome back” Ian says, crossing the street and stopping in front of Mickey. Susan silently takes his bag from his hands and he allows her, eyes fixed on Ian. 

 

It’s only once his wife and kid are safely inside the house that Ian speaks again. “I didn’t tell anyone.”

 

Mickey nods, sighing. “Thank you. For me, but mostly for them.” He nods toward the house. “Chris is just a child. And it was I who made a mistake.”

 

“Telling me the truth was a mistake?”

 

“No, falling in love with you was. If love can be called a mistake…” He looks straight into Ian’s eyes as he says it, because he needs him to know what they had wasn’t a lie. Ian’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

 

“Did you plan to seduce me for information?” He lowers his voice, although there’s no one around. 

 

Mickey nods. “Yes. I mean, after you appeared, yes. I mean, it’s not  _ my _ fault that you decided to move to the house in front of mine.” He sees Ian smirk a little and his heart does a somersault. “After that, befriending you was a mere strategic decision.”

 

“And sleeping with me?”

 

Mickey full on grins at that. “Perks of the job.”

 

Ian throws his head back and roars with laughter. It makes Mickey laugh as well, and for a moment it seems like everything is okay again.

 

“Why… am… I… laughing?” Ian asks, panting, then continues to laugh. He takes a few deep breaths and manages to calm down. “This is so fucked up, why do I find it funny?”

 

Mickey wipes tears from his eyes, laughter slowly dying. “Man, I missed you!” He blurts out, as he’s wanton to do around Ian.

 

Ian sobers up instantly, a light frown in his features. “Me too.” He sighs. “What are we going to do?”

 

Mickey shakes his head. “I don’t know, man. I… When you said you’d leave everything for me… Did you mean it?”

 

Ian nods, solemn. “Yes. 100%.”

 

“After all this, would you still do it?”

 

Ian looks at him confused. “Are you talking about… leaving? Just the two of us?”

 

Mickey looks at the ground, thumb coming up to rub his lower lip in a nervous gesture. “If you want to, yes.” He looks up, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Do you want to?”

 

Ian smiles. “Can we?”

 

“Honestly? Probably no, not in the way you’re thinking. But in a different way, yes.”

 

“What do you mean exactly?”

 

“The US isn’t safe for me, and now probably isn’t safe for you either. Our best option would be going somewhere else.”

 

Ian looks around, making sure there’s no one in the vicinity. “Like Moscow?”

 

Mickey nods. “Most likely.”

 

“Wouldn’t they kill me there?”

 

Mickey smiles and shakes his head. “No. We’d still have to hide” he gestures between them “this, but it’d be easier. We’ve got contacts. I’ve been here for many years and I’ve served them well. I could make it happen.”

 

Ian worries his lip, thinking, before nodding. “Yeah, ok. Let’s do it.”

 

“Really? I mean, not that I don’t think it’s great that you’d said yes, but I thought you’d be more resistant, or hesitant.”

 

“I probably should, but I don’t know, I just feel safe with you. Against all the reasons why my brain is telling me this might be a bad idea, there’s just one positive aspect that’s dominating my mind: we get to be together. And right now, I’ll do anything to make that happen.”

 

Mickey nods. “Give me a few days to arrange things, and I’ll get back to you about it, ok?”

 

“Ok.”

 

Mickey glances back at his house. “I should probably go. Don’t want Susan in a bad mood when I try to convince her of this crazy idea.”

 

Ian deflates. “Oh. She’d go with us?”

 

“I’m hoping so. Our marriage may have been arranged, but she’s been a good wife and a fucking good partner. I’d hate to leave her. Plus, there’s Chris, you know? He’s my kid, man.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds fair. So… I’ll see you later?” Ian gives him a hopeful smile and Mickey grins back at him. 

 

“See ya.” He goes into the house, feeling more hopeful than he’s felt in a very long time. They were doing this.

 

***************************

 

“We’re absolutely not doing this!”

 

Mickey resists the urge to roll his eyes. It’s not like he was expecting Susan to say anything different.

 

“It’s the best option.”

 

“For you, maybe. What about me? What about our jobs, our mission, our cause, our  _ country _ ?”

 

“It’ll survive without us.”

 

“Actually, you don’t know that. What if we’re on the brink of some major operation that we just don’t know yet?”

 

“Then some other agents will do it. We’re not irreplaceable. We’re good, we’re experienced, but we’re not irreplaceable. Besides, there are still jobs to be done in other places. We’d be safe, all of us, Chris included. And who knows, maybe he’d actually make friends.”

 

She scoffs. “He’d be miserable!”

 

“He already  _ is _ miserable.”

 

She continues to shake her head. “No, no, we’re not going back, not yet, not when there’s still work to be done. You want to go, you can go by yourself, I’m staying here, and Chris is staying with me.”

 

Mickey approaches her and takes her hands. She stares at him, distrust plainly visible in his eyes. “I love you. Maybe not like I love Ian, but I still love you. You’re my wife and you’ve been my partner for fifteen years. You gave me a beautiful son. You’ve had my back and literally saved my life more times than I can remember. We’re in this together, we’re a team. I know it looks like I have selfish reasons for wanting this, and I admit there’s that as well, but I truly believe this is the best for all of us, or I would find another way. We can talk to Gary, see what he thinks, if he knows anyway we can keep on helping the cause when we get back. I’m sure there’s got to be something.”

 

She lowers her hands and sighs. “I won’t make any promises, but fine, we can talk to Gary. Let’s hear his opinion.”

 

***************************

 

“It’s a great idea.”

 

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Susan sounds exasperated and even Mickey has trouble believing what his handler has just said, even though it is what he’d hoped he’d say.

 

“I said it’s a great idea. Mickey has been over this whole thing for months, stressed, demotivated and taking unnecessary risks. You told me so yourself.”

 

Mickey frowns at his wife, feeling betrayed. “You  _ did _ ?”

 

She shrugs. “It’s the truth.”

 

“Ian now knows too much, and even though Mickey may trust him, it’d be better for everyone to take him away from the FBI, the sooner the better. He might break at any second, which would cause us huge problems. And I won’t lie to you, the central did ask me if I thought he should be put down, but I told them to wait for further development. This way, it’s safer for him as well.”

 

Mickey isn’t shocked by the confession, he suspected Ian had been walking with a target on his back for a while now, but it still hurts to hear the confirmation.

 

“Your son is still young, which will make it easier for him to adapt, learn the language, make friends. And as for you, we’re always in need of good agents to train new ones, and you’re one of the best. You’d still be helping the cause, but in a safer environment. I don’t see any reason not to do this.”

 

Mickey looks at Susan expectantly, but she just sits there silently for a minute, eyes on the table. Finally she sighs and raises her eyes back to Gary. 

 

“Fine. When do we leave?”

 

“I’ll need to make some arrangements, but I believe two nights from today would be ideal. Talk to Ian, instruct him on how to proceed and remind him he can’t tell anyone or leave any messages, and that he’ll never be able to contact his family again. Make sure he knows what he’s getting into.”

 

Mickey nods, his expression serious but his heart bursting with joy. He is going back home, taking with him his family, including the man he loves. He knows it won’t be easy, but he’s confident that whatever happens, they can face anything if they just stick together.

 

*****************************************

 

“ Ya prines apel'siny!” Mickey announces as soon as he enters the apartment. It’s rare for them to get oranges, and he knows Ian loves them, so it feels like something that needs to be announced.

 

“Ya lyublyu apel'siny!” Ian exclaims, coming from the bedroom and sniffing the air for the sweet perfume. “But can we speak English a little bit? Svet went to the hair salon and Yev is out with Katya.” 

 

Svetlana who had adopted her original name once back in Russia, as Mickey had also started to go by his Russian name, although he continued being Mickey for his family. Chris, who had had some rough first months in Moscow, had one day declared that if he was going to live in Russia, he’d need a Russian name, and proceeded to announce his name would now be Yevgeny, for his maternal grandfather - he hadn’t allowed anyone to call him Chris ever since. After that he’d moved on to make new friends and even a girlfriend, Katya, a lovely girl that even Svetlana liked and who had helped Yev come out of his shell a lot, and also helped him with his Russian, which he was now fluent in.

 

Mickey smiles and gives Ian a light kiss. He wishes they could be like this without having to make it a secret, but inside their home they were together, and it was enough to make him happy. “Sure. What about Anna?” he inquires after their four-year-old. Once they were back and settled, Svetlana had insisted on having another child, saying Mickey owned her for changing her life around abruptly like he had. He’d figured it was fair enough and they’d had Anna, who was now the light in everyone’s lives. She was smart and cheeky and constantly got on Svet’s nerves, but her mother could never be mad at her for so long. Mickey didn’t even bother trying, unable to resist the chubby cheeks and big blue eyes. An Ian was total putty in her hands and spoiled her rotten, being constantly reprimanded by Svet for doing so, but still continuing to. Even Yev wasn’t immune to her charms, usually forgiving her quickly when she got into mischief. Anna was what had brought them together as a family and united them more than ever, and they all loved her dearly.

 

“Taking a nap.” Ian brings Mickey closer and deepens the kiss. Mickey leans into him, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

 

Ian pulls back after a while, taking the bag of oranges from Mickey. “These smell so good. It’s been ages since we’ve last had oranges.” 

 

Mickey sighs. “I’m sorry.”

 

Ian frowns at him, confused, they rolls his eyes when he realizes what his lover means. “Mickey, for the hundredth time, I love you. I  _ chose _ to be with you. We have a family and we’re happy. I’m not going to say I never miss America or the people there, but that feels like a lifetime ago. We’ve been together for over five years, and never, not one single time in these five years, have I regretted coming here. And the scarcity of oranges is not going to be what changes that.”

 

Mickey relaxes and smiles and Ian grins back at him. 

 

“Ia tebya lyublyu.”

 

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I do not speak Russian, so if you do and notice a mistake, please let me know!  
> In the end, Mickey says he's brought oranges and Ian replies that he loves orange. And in the very end, I think it's clear, Ian says "I love you".


End file.
